


sobering up

by rrosebudd



Category: Cyberpunk & Cyberpunk 2020 (Roleplaying Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bar Room Brawl, Boss/Employee Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drunkenness, Gangsters, Hangover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rrosebudd/pseuds/rrosebudd
Summary: Mal gets a bit too fucked up at the 6th Street Headquarters, and very nearly goes home with a man she doesn't want. Her boss and gang leader intervenes, laying out the perpetrator, before taking Mal back to his place for a very unpleasant and well needed wake-up call.
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character





	sobering up

“Can I buy you another drink?”

The music was too loud and her brain was too quiet. “What?” 

“I said, let me get you another drink!” 

The man called above the din of the bar toward the girl in the seat next to him. 

She’d be talking to him for a while. She thought. She didn’t know how much time had gone by. 

Malware gave him a lazy smile, certainly not about to turn down more alcohol, especially not from a pretty boy. “Sure,” she giggled breathily. 

His name was Hammersmith, that much she remembered, because they’d met before. He was lower in the ranks of 6th Street than most of the guys she’d gotten with, but that wasn’t of concern to her. Rank hardly mattered, given that she was as much of an outlier as they came, having no military status of her own and a bad reputation with those who did. 

Mal watched the man turn to the bartender, another ganger whose name escaped her, and order another whiskey. Only a minute passed before he turned back to her and slipped the full tumbler into her palm.

He was pretty enough. A little older than her, hair dark and a little unkempt, some facial hair and the occasional scar. He was muscular, but so was every man in these Headquarters. This one just happened to be stupid enough to spend money on her. 

She brought the drink to her mouth and took a swig, nearly gagging at the taste, but almost too far gone to care, before setting the glass down. That was number four. No, five. Plus the joint earlier, and… a line of something. Whatever, it was working. 

“So, there I was, behind cover in the second battle, and—” Hammersmith started talking again, much to Mal’s annoyance. 

Super cool story, she was sure, but if it didn’t end with her getting another drink, she wasn’t really about to pay attention. She focused on his attractive face instead of his words. She wondered if he kept his wallet on him. 

Her eyes were half-lidded and cloudy, and the story was long, but she was able to interject with a “wow” or a “mhm” on occasion to feign interest. He was awfully close to her, and she felt his hand rest on her thigh as his tale came to a close.

She was downing the rest of her drink when she noticed the large palm that was a bit too close to the space between her legs for her liking. She flicked her eyes down to his hand, then back to his gaze, which held an expectation there. 

“It’s kind of loud in here, don’t you think,” he spoke up, and this part she heard. 

Malware glanced over her shoulder to the speakers that the loud-ass 2020’s rock was blasting from. She caught the eyes of some of the gangers playing pool, some drinking. The animosity wasn’t as high tonight as it normally was toward her, for she was one of them, sure, but she stood out well enough, and not pleasantly. 

“Yeah, kinda,” she agreed, and went to take another sip, before realizing there was no more whiskey in her glass. She frowned. 

Hammersmith was closer now, leaning into her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “Wanna get out of here? Head outside, maybe somewhere private?” He smelled like cigarettes. 

She fought the urge to lean away, but she tilted her head in consideration, tracing the rim of her tumbler with her finger. “Like, for a walk?”

“Whatever you want, hon.”

That sounded nice. She wanted lots of things. Sleep was one of those things, but it could wait a while.

“Okay,” she gave a lazy and groggy grin, pushing her glass away and hopping off the barstool. 

Her legs almost immediately buckled underneath her, and likely would have, if she didn’t grab the bar’s counter for support. She made a sound of surprise as she almost went down, but Smith was right there to help her, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her back onto unsteady feet. 

“Careful, baby, I got you,” he murmured in her ear as he tugged her close against his side, his hand gripping his waist, a little closer to her ass than she expected, or even approved of. 

Another sound through closed lips that sounded something like disdain, and Mal tried to take a step forward. It was difficult, and she found herself leaning almost completely on Hammersmith for support, as he helped her hobble along the floor of the headquarters’ bar toward the exit.

Mal held onto him, though she really didn’t have much of a choice, lest she collapse from her jelly legs. Smith was practically carrying her, but he made it work, and the two made their way to the front door, weaving through other drunk members of 6th Street, though none quite as far gone as their netrunner. 

She stumbled toward the threshold, but before she could get outside, she bumped into something large and firm. 

Mal reeled back, and her double vision swung to form one to see a huge man in a military jacket and an eyepatch. He wore a constant sneer, and stared down the small girl and the guy holding her up. 

“Shit, it’s my boss,” she slurred, speaking directly into Hammersmith’s ear, and he tugged his head away, as she wasn’t exactly talking in a whisper.

Smith adjusted her in his arm, and chuckled weakly. “Yeah, he’s… my boss, too. Hey, Sarge,” he nodded in the man’s direction. 

Sergeant Major Cormac Ashford eyed his two subordinates, one of which was pathetically intoxicated, something Mal knew would infuriate the leader of the gang to no end. 

“Hammersmith,” Ashford acknowledged curtly, before narrowing his eyes at Mal. “Can I help you two with something.” 

The lower rank veteran cleared his throat, and Mal observed that he seemed much less big in the presence of the much larger and frankly more intimidating army man. “No, sir.” 

Mal giggled again, her smile lopsided and sleepy as she rested her head on Hammersmith’s shoulder. “Hi, Mac,” she said, all sing-songy. She hiccuped.

“We were… just leaving, actually,” Hammersmith squeezed Mal’s side. “Heading back to my place.” 

“That so?” Ashford questioned, unamused. “Do tell.” 

“Yessir,” said Smith with more confidence than Mal thought he had earned, but maybe the alcohol was aiding him with that. She swayed slightly, her head spinning. 

Hammersmith’s mistake was in the fact that he kept talking, and even if Mal could barely stay awake, she could tell that much. 

“Feel free to take our seats at the bar. This took a lot less time than I expected,” he grinned at the boss. Mal shut her eyes as her head lolled on his shoulder, wrapping an arm around him to keep herself upright.

The Sergeant Major lowered his brow as though to ask a silent question at the underling, obviously irritated.

“She’s, uh,” Smith chuckled, his hand on her lower back drifting down. “Definitely one of the easy ones.” 

The hand suddenly smacked her behind, and Mal jumped, before recovering from the surprise with a lazy chuckle and pink on her cheeks, nearly melting into the guy at her side without the ability to stand on her own. 

Their boss, however, didn’t seem nearly as tickled. His jaw visibly clenched.

Smith glanced over the arm candy he held, before looking back to Ashford with a jerk of his chin. “I mean, you’d know, I’m sure,” he spoke matter-of-factly. “You’ve taken her for a spin, why don’t you let me know h—?”

The Major wasn’t interested in letting him finish the rest of the thought, apparently. 

Mal heard the crack before she even registered movement. Ashford was a blur, shooting out his fist and socking Hammersmith across the jaw with brute strength that didn’t even require effort. 

She yelled out in shock as Smith dropped like a ton of bricks at her side, the Major’s knuckles catching him in the face and sending him to the wooden floor of the bar. 

Every ganger in the clubhouse stopped what they were doing, and even the music sounded quieter, as all attention was turned toward the boss and his subordinate currently on the ground, cupping his likely broken jaw and staring up with wide frightened eyes.

“Ashford, what the  _ fuck _ ?!” Mal shouted, stumbling back and almost tripping over her feet, grabbing the front wall to keep straight. 

The Sergeant Major ignored her, and squatted down, snatching the collar of the man on the ground and dragging him to be face to face with him. 

Smith was heaving breaths in, his jaw at an odd angle as he stared into the reddened furious face of his leader. 

“If you’re still here by the time I get back,” Cormac spoke in a steely calm that would turn any one of these hardened vets into stone, “I will gut you like a fish. Do you understand?” 

“Boss, I was just—”

“I said, do you understand me?!” The grip on Smith’s collar tightened, threatening to cut off blood flow, and the younger vet nodded rapidly, a deer caught in headlights. 

Ashford tossed Smith’s head back to the ground with another thud, before standing back to his full height, eyeing down the crowd of gangers that silently looked on. 

He ground his teeth. “Go back to your business,” he spat. 

Mal was catching her breath, the room all but spinning as she tried to process the series of events through the fog of her fucked-up brain. 

“And you,” Sarge carelessly tore her away from the wall she’d grasped, his gigantic fist enclosing around her small upper arm. “Come with me,” he growled, yanking her toward the exit and outside. 

She staggered alongside him, a sharp pain shooting through the bones in her arm as he dug his fingers into her skin. She shot a concerned glance over her shoulder to her colleagues that began to murmur amongst themselves once more. She knew none of them would intervene. 

Mal almost toppled over as Cormac kicked open the headquarter’s door and dragged her outside. He began marching ahead, and while she wasn’t quite as fast, he made sure she kept up. 

She was having trouble keeping her breaths steady, and her surroundings were an angry neon blur rushing past. The two were out on the street outside the bar and quickly heading down the block. Mal spoke up, teeth grit. “I didn’t  _ do  _ anything.” 

“Shut up.” Ashford’s voice barked, and his grip tightened. 

She knew there was no defending herself, and it dawned on her that she could very well die now. That wouldn’t be surprising, but disappointing maybe. 

They turned a corner and then crossed the street, and she only vaguely recognized these buildings. He dragged her along the crosswalk, ignoring her unsteadiness. She whined. 

“But where are we  _ going _ ?”

“What did I just fucking say?!” He snapped back, jostling her around another corner, and then toward a particularly tall building, a neat skyscraper with glass windows, only a couple blocks from where they were. 

He led her through the sliding front doors, then through a lobby, and into an elevator. He all but through her inside after the ding sounded, finally letting go of her sore arm and letting her smack into the opposite elevator wall as she stumbled over her legs. 

She saw him roll his eyes as he got in after her, pressing the button for the 14th floor, and waiting for the doors to shut. She had to grasp the metal bar along the wall, leaning against the cool interior of the elevator and shutting her eyes. She wanted to say something else about how this was pointless, she was innocent and inebriated, but she knew that would only get her in deeper shit. 

Several moments of painful silence passed, though they all felt like one dizzying second to Mal, before another ding rang and the doors opened along with her eyes.

“This is me,” Cormac grunted, gesturing sharply in front of him for Mal to proceed through the doors. “Right ahead, c’mon.”

She shot him a skeptical half-lidded glance, but obliged, stumbling in front of him and out into the hallway. “You live here?”

“One more stupid question, and you’re out on the street, got that?” Ashford barked, shouldering past her and producing keys from his pocket as the two stopped at an apartment door labeled with the number 1403. He was quick to open the door and shove her inside. 

He ran a hand down his face before shoving his keys back into his pants. He snapped his fingers ahead of him. “Have a seat.”

“Wh…?” She began, but then saw the kitchen table and several chairs just to the left of the entrance. “Oh.” 

He didn’t wait for her to obey, instead beelining to the kitchen sink and beginning to run the water. 

Mal tugged out the wooden chair from the kitchen table and promptly flopped down into it, her head in her hands and her ratty hair dangling by her face as though holding it could stop the room from spinning. 

“I feel like I might be sick.”

“Not on my floor, you won’t.” Ashford snipped over his shoulder. 

She heard the rattling of what sounded like glass as he worked over in the kitchen, followed by the sound of water sloshing. She ignored it in favor of keeping her mind from doing somersaults. More silence between the two of them occurred, though the Sergeant Major seemed very focused on whatever he was concocting in the kitchen. 

“Alright, come here.” 

His sharp and gruff voice spoke up above the din of running water, though he stopped the faucet just a moment after. Mal let out a groan as she struggled to her feet, and wandered over to the sink at a leisurely pace. She swayed as she approached, only to see the Major standing with his arms folded, next to the sink, though it was now filled with water and what looked like a metric ton of ice. 

“Are you going to tell me what this is ab—”

“What did you take,” Ashford interrupted. 

She blinked, as words were still difficult to decipher. “What?”

“Tell me what you took tonight.” 

His voice didn’t sound patient in the slightest — it never did — but that didn’t mean she could think any faster just by will. “Shit, um—”

Mal took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her small nose with her fingers and thinking. The look on her face demonstrated just how difficult it was to form thought at all. “Whiskey, a lot of it. Shot of tequila at some point.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re high.”

“I  _ know _ ,” she shot him a glare. “I wasn’t done, I just can’t fuckin’ remember.” She ground her teeth, ignoring the clear anger in her boss’s face. “There was a line of something at some point. Synth coke, I’m pretty sure, and—”

“ _ And _ ,” he rolled his eyes, nostrils flared in his fury. 

“Yeah,  _ and _ ,” she punctuated. “I smoked somethin’, I don’t know.” 

Ashford’s jaw visibly shifted. “You don’t know.” 

She could help but scoff, and slurred out her insincere apology. “Yeah, bud, sorry I can’t remember every dumb-ass name of every drug I ingested tonight because I’m  _ just  _ too fucked up, is that what you wanted to hea—?”

Without changing his cold and furious glare even an inch, Ashford reached behind Malware’s head and grabbed a chunk of her greasy brown hair, his large hand dwarfing her head, before yanking her down to the sink and shoving her head into the icy water. 

Whatever shout she was about to let out in protest was instantly submerged under the freezing tap water, and she instead screamed, though the sound was quiet and helplessly bubbled to the surface. Her small hands scrambled for purchase on the edge of the sink, but her strength was nothing compared to the metallic arm holding her in place. 

The Major was unbothered, watching her struggle and refusing to give way. He held her there with her head under the ice for several agonizing moments, and then relaxed his arm. 

Mal burst free with a strangled gasp, snapping her head up and flipping her soaking wet hair back. A shock to the system, she felt the freezing cold of the water reach her extremities as the wetness dripped from her head down to her shoulders and chest. She took in heaving breaths, looking at Ashford with wide eyes that ran with black tears from her ruined makeup. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?!”

He ignored her. “What did you smoke.” 

“B-Black lace, o-or blue glass, I honest to god can’t remember,” she hacked out, one hand gripping the kitchen counter for dear life while she coughed into her other hand, suddenly shivering all the way down her body. 

“Never in my life,” Ashford spoke through grit teeth, the anger in his face palpable, and even mixed with some disgust, making Mal feel small and perhaps in danger, “have I had such a pathetic excuse for a ganger under my employ.” 

“Yeah, well, there’s a first time for everything,” she spat, trembling, her boss’s anger clearly contagious. 

He hit her, hard. His metal arm packed a sting strong enough to make her see stars as he slapped her across the face, and she almost knocked her head into a cabinet. She cried out through a locked jaw upon impact, ear ringing. 

“You’re gonna sober the hell up, shut your mouth, and listen.” He spoke simply, huge brow lowered, and clearly not about to take her shit. 

She breathed heavily, almost wheezing with each labored inhale. “Yes,  _ sir _ ,” Mal snapped. 

“Go sit down.” 

She scoffed. “What, you’re not going to waterboard me again?” 

He raised the back of his hand, and she flinched pathetically, then retreated back to the kitchen table. She slunk back to her sit and sat, watching him with agitation. 

“Going to a party and pumping yourself full of drugs is one thing,” he snarled in her direction, before turning back to the kitchen counter and beginning to work on something else. “But going home with a man because you’re too goddamn trashed to turn him down? How fucking stupid do you have to be?”

“What?” She hissed, wracking her brain to even remember what he was talking about. “That wasn’t what—” She began, but vaguely recalled Hammersmith attempting to drag her back to his place, and how her legs, nor her brain, were working properly. She shook her head and shut her eyes, starting over. “Oh, but I’m the one getting punished?”

“We have a  _ reputation _ ,” he slammed his metal fist on the counter, making the utensils clatter and causing her to jump, before he reached for something in a drawer and added it to a mug, “to uphold. And snorting anything you get your grimy hands on and throwing yourself around without regard for your own safety?” He shot her a look over his shoulder. “It’s disgusting.” 

“Wow. My boss thinks I’m a junkie  _ and _ a whore,” she chuckled sardonically, and then hiccuped. “I’m flattered.” 

“You’re a disgrace to the 6th Street name,” he turned back to his work, pouring water in the mug, his voice speaking as though his words were fact. “If it were up to my men, you’d have been thrown in jail a long time ago.” 

She ground her teeth, and shuddered at that, likely from the cold water still dripping from her hair. “Isn’t it up to you?”

“It is up to me.” 

“Then why don’t you?”

Cormac didn’t answer, instead stirring the contents of the cup with a metal spoon. He turned back to the kitchen table and placed the mug down in front of his subordinate. “Drink.”

Mal blinked and glanced down at the brown-black mixture in front of her, but she didn’t think twice, and instead took a swig. It was coffee, shitty coffee at that, mixed with some herbal garbage. She filtered the grounds through her teeth and coughed, putting the glass back down.

“Thanks, it tastes like shit.” 

He smacked her upside the head with his metallic palm, and she grunted. “Ow.” 

“I’d get rid of you an instant if I didn’t need your stupid computer skills.” He continued his previous thought, straightening himself and standing across from her at the table. “And if you keep up this druggie trash, I might just do that anyway.” 

She eyed him from over the rim of the mug as she took another gross sip. 

“You’re better than this, Mallory.”

She choked on the coffee, and put down the cup with another hack into her elbow. “ _ Please _ don’t tell me you think my full name is Mallory.”

He ignored her. “You need to start holding yourself to a higher standard, like the rest of us do. I know you’re not a vet, Christ, the whole world can tell,” he threw a hand up in his exhaustion, before meeting her eyes again, and she almost recoiled from the coldness she saw there. “But if you don’t start making amends, you’re gone.” 

She took a breath. That could mean several things for her, be it prison, back to life on the streets, or maybe they’d just execute her where she stood. Mal took another sip. 

“Do we understand one another?” 

She glanced up to see Ashford leaning down to be face to face with her. She shrugged. “Yeah.”

He raised a brow, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yes,  _ sir _ ,” she shook her head. “Jesus.”

“Good.” He nodded, satisfied, and pulled up a chair to sit across from her. “Finish the drink. It’ll make sure you don’t wake up wanting to off yourself.” 

That happened to her quite often. “Right,” she affirmed, and tried to down another large swig. “What about Smith?” She spoke after a particularly rough swallow. “I get my shit rocked, what about him?” 

“I’ll deal with him another time,” the Sergeant Major responded simply. “He’s a veteran. He doesn’t disrespect this gang as much as your membership does.”

“Oh, doesn’t he?” 

“However,” he interrupted calmly. “The zero-tolerance policy that I have for…” he looked her over, her hair sticking to the sides of her face that was still beaded with water, “whatever bullshit you constantly pull, it also applies to attempted assault. Neither of you are off the hook.”

Her shoulders eased a bit, and she nodded. “Cool.” She knocked back the rest of the drink. 

She expected him to spit more venom in her direction, but he instead kept an eye on her, gently taking the mug when she was done. “You finished?”

She nodded, wringing out her hair with two hands. 

“Down the hall is the bathroom, and the last door on the left is the bedroom. Take a shower, get in and sleep this off. I’ll leave clothes out for you on the dresser.” 

Mal blinked, watching the man with the most surprise she’d felt all night. She opened her mouth to refuse, but shut it, and nodded. 

He stood, pushing out his chair and heading back to the sink to empty it. “I’m heading back to HQ. If I’m not here when you wake up tomorrow, feel free to stay. Or don’t, I won’t know.” He shook his head. 

She followed him with her gaze, confused, and he met her eyes as he stopped at the door. “Go,” he jerked his chin toward the hall. 

She stood and rolled her eyes, but felt a weird kind of warmth under her skin in spite of the cold water there. “Goodnight, sir.” 

“Whatever.” 

She heard the door shut, and headed to the shower. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> not too violent! but I needed some content where Mal's boss is simultaneously caring and a complete dick to her, because he's really the only sort of family she knows,,, i lov my druggie hackie girl and her gang


End file.
